Sweeney Todd Oneshots
by Amaryllis3121
Summary: A collection of Sweeney Todd stories/ideas I have. Some of them are 'what if's and the rest are just things that would slot into the film somewhere. Mostly focused on Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett's relationship- some Sweenett.
1. Guilt

_Hi, I just want to get three things very clear here:_

_Firstly, the whole idea of this fic is basically for me to easily post any little oneshots that pop into my head. It's rated T so that I'm not so limited and don't have to change the rating if I 'overstep any limits', as it were. Essentially, for safety._

_Secondly, I've only just discovered the amazingness that is Sweeney Todd a few days ago. So please go easy on me? And I apologise if some of it doesn't make sense- it's kind of the way it's meant to be because the idea is it's writted how Sweeney Todd's thinking at the time, so not very clearly. and I know I briefly refer to him as Benjamin. Once again, it's part of the story._

_Thirdly, I'm not convinced that Sweeney Todd is in character, but it kind of fits, I think, because he's sort of losing his mind (more so than before, at least). And I think he would see himself and Benjamin as different people, so I had him refer to it that way a lot. It's kind of confusing._

_Okay, so enjoy :)._

* * *

Sweeney Todd dropped his razor in defeat. He felt empty- useless. As though he had no purpose anymore. In a way he didn't.

There were no words to describe the anguish that Sweeney felt as he knelt down and stared at her once-beautiful face, horrified and full of agony. Of course, she was still beautiful to him, even in death.

_Lucy…_

His precious Lucy- robbed of first her wits and then her life and it was all his fault. Desperately, he cradled her, willing her back to life, trying to breathe some life into her- not that he had much to spare.

Unconsciously, Sweeney began to sing to her, his voice cracking with emotion.

_The was a barber and his wife_

_And she was beautiful…_

_A foolish barber and his wife_

_She was his reason and his life_

_And she was beautiful, and she was virtuous…_

_And he was…_

A shadow fell over Sweeney and he tilted his head back to see and empty-eyed Toby standing over him, clutching Sweeney's razor to him.

…_Naïve._

Sweeney finished his song and rose slowly.

"The razor, son." Sweeney said softly, holding out his hand. Almost mechanically, the boy placed it on Sweeney's open palm. Before he could move his hand, Sweeney's fingers snapped shut and he pulled him closer, unhooking another razor from his belt.

Silently, Sweeney stared into the boy's wide eyes and opened the razor one-handed in a fluent, threatening motion. The boy's eyes betrayed no emotion as Sweeney brought the razor to his throat. He closed his eyes as he drew it across the boy's neck and released his grip.

The thump of the boy's body hitting the floor was too much for Sweeney and he turned away, but found himself looking at the furnace. To one side of him lay Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford. To the other side of him lay Lucy.

Desperately, Benjamin turned in a circle, trying to find a path that would lead him away from Sweeney, from the monstrosity he had become. He sunk to the floor, clutching at his hair in despair.

"What have I done?" he whispered to himself.

'_This is what you wanted isn't it?' _Sweeney whispered to him, _'This is your salvation.'_

"No!" Benjamin roared. "No- I didn't want this. You wanted this!"

Sweeney cackled. _'_You're_ me!'_

"No… you're me. But not for long."

Benjamin's hand snaked to where he had dropped the two razors beside the boy's body. He picked one up. It felt warm and familiar, yet gleamed threateningly, the blade's beautiful shine tarnished by the blood it had seen. Sweeney saw this as heightening its beauty, but Benjamin was repulsed. Disgusted.

Hands trembling, he reached up to his neck and rested the blade against his flesh. He took a deep breath to steady himself. It was the only way to stop Sweeney. His only chance to choke down the monster inside of him.

But Benjamin hesitated too long. Sweeney let his hand drop, choking back the feelings Benjamin had brought with him. He dropped his head, not knowing what to do anymore. He stared down at his blood-soaked hands as they gently caressed the razor, dark thoughts swimming through his mind.

Sweeney was jolted from his reverie by a loud crash coming from the shop. His head snapped up and he clutched his razor, but he didn't move. There were footsteps now, coming down the stairs. Within a moment, the door burst open and policemen rushed in. Sweeney stared blankly at them. He allowed himself to be led away from the bodies.

Time rushed by. Sweeney barely noticed it, but before he knew it, he was sat in a cell, staring at the wall opposite. Now he had time to think, he realised he didn't care for Lucy. That was Benjamin. He had always been there, lurking in the corner of his mind. In the part he didn't dare explore. That didn't stop it bleeding through. Fragments of his past often came back to haunt him.

Sweeney shook his head. That didn't make sense. He had to sort himself out. He wouldn't die without understanding what had happened to him. And he would die. He had nothing to live for- even if he did, he was imprisoned far away from it. It was all so bitterly familiar yet so strange and new.

Benjamin had fought back. Sweeney killed the boy and Benjamin had fought back.

No.

Benjamin's emotions had fought back. Benjamin was dead- gone. So was that what had happened? Everything Sweeney suppressed had surfaced, certainly, but it was more than that. When he had choked the emotions back and taken control of himself again, he couldn't feel Benjamin anymore. He had gone. But there was something there that he couldn't shake. It was like an annoying fly, buzzing constantly in his ear. And he knew what it was.

It was something he rarely felt. As Benjamin because he never did anything wrong. As Sweeney because everything human was locked away.

Guilt.

Sweeney sneered with contempt at the word. Not because of the guilt in itself, but for who it was for. Mrs. Lovett. As he had concluded earlier- when Benjamin's emotions had died, his love for Lucy had died, leaving Sweeney with a strange hollowness. And he knew why.

It wasn't the loss of Lucy. It was the loss of Mrs. Lovett. Perhaps they weren't a couple, but their bizarre companionship sparked some kind of twisted bond between them that Sweeney could only describe as love. It was the closest he was ever going to get again. And he destroyed it.

It wasn't just that though. Before he killed her. He hurt her. Every day. He ignored her and put her last, only occasionally unintentionally. She had annoyed him. But he liked her. She was jolly and brightened his mood, although he wouldn't admit it. And it was nice to have somebody, particularly when he had been nearly inconsolable with grief and anger.

Angrily, Sweeney hit his head against the wall. It felt good, so he did it again and again with more force each time. He punctuated each bang with a word.

"It. Doesn't. Make. Any. Sense." he hissed angrily. Then he hit his head again, the hardest time. He stopped abruptly, not daring to move after he heard a loud crack. The wall was cold and soothing to the wound he was sure was there. Gradually, he slid down the wall as his eyes closed and he lost consciousness.

"Mr. T…"

A clatter.

"Mr. T…"

Sweeney's eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. He stared, terrified at the figure in the corner before scrambling to the top of his bed with a sharp intake of breath. He hunched up, staring at it stumbled blindly towards him.

It was Mrs. Lovett, horrifically burned and scarred. Her flesh was charred and lumpy. In places the bone showed. Sweeney felt for his razor, before realising it had been taken off him. Still Mrs. Lovett advanced. She moved into the light from the window and Sweeney let out a low moan of horror as her face was illuminated.

Try as he might, Sweeney couldn't tear his gaze from her awful face. Clumps of flesh was missing from her jaw and there was a gaping hole in one of her cheeks. She had no nose- only a misshapen hole. Worst were her eyes, or lack thereof. In one socket sat an almost unrecognisable, mutilated eyeball. The other was empty.

"Mr. T…" she moaned again. She lurched forward, almost upon him. "Mr. T… I'm sorry…"

"G-get away from me!" Sweeney yelled.

"It's alright love… it's me…"

Mrs. Lovett's hand closed around Sweeney's wrist as he shrieked in terror.

And then his eyes flicked open.

Sweeney lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling with calming breaths. His hand strayed to his waist, where he hid a razor under his shirt. Of course it was just a dream- when didn't he have a razor? It had been difficult to smuggle one in, but he couldn't live without it, he didn't think.

Ignoring the pain in his head, Sweeney pulled himself up onto the bed. His eyes flicked to the shadows, searching them. He knew what he had to do now. It was the only way he could be free.

"We all deserve to die." he mumbled bitterly, taking his razor from his belt. He held it in his hands a moment, playing every murder he had done in his mind. Surely he didn't deserve this- to die in a cold, dark, lonely cell with nothing but his confused thoughts to fill his mind.

Before he could change his mind, he opened the razor and brought it to his neck. He dug the blade into his flesh, savouring the pain.

No. This was what he deserved. Him and every other low vermin on the planet.

With an angry flick of his wrist, Sweeney rewarded himself with the 'relief' he had been praying for ever since he had taken the boy's life.

As his body tumbled from the bed, Sweeney Todd idly wondered if Benjamin would go to hell too.

* * *

_Yeah... so I don't think it was the best thing I've ever written, but hey- I had to get it off my chest. I'm begging you to review- please. I've done a ton of other fics and I barely get any reviews and I don't know if I'll post more chapters on any if I don't get many reviews. I know that's kind of needy, but it's nice to know people are actually reading this stuff :). Seriously- even if you just say 'hi' to let me know you read it, that'd be great :)._

_Sorry. Whinge over. I'm not normally like that, but it's four in the morning and I have school in four hours and I'm really tired... so yeah. Apologies for my mind turning to mush as I type :)._


	2. Almost Goodbye

_Me again, heya :). This is something I wrote in about ten minutes, just to clear my writer's block. I was gonna work on my Dark Knight fic, but this kind of flowed better. Once again, a couple of things- I know it's short, I'm sorry. I'm working on my actual story (one I hope to get published one day in probably many years) and I quickly knocked this up to help me write as I haven't written properly in a while (apart from the first chapter of this fic) and I was having a little trouble getting back on my feet, so to speak._

_Another thing- I have no idea why Sweeney's so pissed off. I'll leave that up to you to decide._

_Also, yes, I am very intruiged into Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett's relationship, so a lot of these chapters will probably center around that, but if you want a bit of something else, let me know and I'll try to comply. This is the last argument before the one where Sweeney kills Mrs. Lovett, so the comment at the end fits nicely I think._

_Finally, a massive thank you and much gratitude to Morgana and rockmysocks456- I really appreciate your reviews :). And also thank you to SleepForTheSun for your story alert :)._

_Well enjoy, and next time I'll work on leaving a shorter note- sorry for my rambling._

* * *

Sweeney's eyes flickered to the woman in front of him.

"What did you say?" he growled, advancing on her. He hated this woman. He couldn't stand her pathetic drivel or her often-inappropriate optimism. He loathed her dark auburn hair and her all-too sincere smiles.

"Now, Mr. T-"

"How dare you!" Sweeney roared. He opened his recently blood-stained razor and pushed Mrs. Lovett into the wall. "How dare you question me- in my own premises, no less!"

"Actually, they belong to-"

"Mrs. Lovett, unless you want your next word to be your last, I suggest you keep quiet." Sweeney spoke softly, almost whispering to her, knowing that would unnerve her more. Unfalteringly, he brought the razor up to her neck and pressed it into her flesh, just hard enough to draw a drop of blood. He held it up to the light, examining it, enjoying the look of terror on Mrs. Lovett's face.

Then his smile dropped with his arm. The razor fell to his side and he turned away from the visibly trembling woman.

"M-Mr. Todd?" she stuttered.

"Go." his voice was low, empty. There was a brief pause, and Sweeney knew she was hesitating. He let out a low grunt. "What are you waiting for, woman?"

After her quick footsteps had died away, Sweeney crossed the room and resumed his familiar place at the window. He glared angrily at every man that passed, as though they were somehow responsible for his moment of weakness.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Mrs. Lovett. Every time she pushed him, he threatened her and scared her. He had never physically harmed her until today, and in a way he was disgusted with himself. How could he?

But how could he not? He slit the throat of several gentlemen every day. He dumped them mercilessly, head first, through a trapdoor. He couldn't even explain to himself why- he just knew he had to do it. Every man had committed some crime- whether it be theft or murder or… _foolishness_.

If he could dispatch of so many, so easily, then what stopped him from dispatching of Mrs. Lovett? Yes, he would have a harder time of disposing of bodies, but he could always revert back to his original plan and bury them at night, in secret.

Unconsciously, Sweeney began to pace. Was he anxious? Afraid? Impatient? He didn't know. All he knew was that every time Mrs. Lovett overstepped the line, he was powerless to do anything to stop her. He would clamp his hands around her neck, or make to slit her throat. He even once almost pushed her down the steps outside, but each time something stopped him. Every time, he _almost_ said goodbye to her for good. And every time he showed a rare moment of mercy.

Next time, he promised himself. Next time he would silence that awful woman for good.

* * *

_Well there you have it- another chapter already! I'll probably update this often because of how quick it is to write oneshots rather than chapters that have to follow a plot. Okay, well please review and I'm sorry again for my rambling author's note- I'll keep it short next time :)._


	3. Forgotten Family

_Hey, just a little something that occured to me earlier, as I was writing the second chapter of If Lucy Hadn't Taken Arsenic..._

_This takes place just before the 'God, That's Good' song. I know it was the business that was making Mrs. Lovett happy, but I thought it could have been something else too :)._

* * *

Did Benjamin have a brother?

Sweeney looked down at a family entering Mrs. Lovett's shop. He scowled at the two remarkably similar boys who were play fighting, much to their mother's annoyance.

If he did, he didn't remember.

Maybe he had a sister, he reasoned, staring at a little girl clinging onto her mother's hand.

He had to have a mother.

Didn't he?

What about a father?

Sweeney growled.

"Family." he spat in disgust. He resisted the temptation to hit his head on the window. If he couldn't remember, he couldn't remember. Extra pain wouldn't help.

Come to think of it, he could remember Mrs. Lovett wittering on about some sister or other the other day.

Sweeney scowled as he felt something he rarely experienced burning at him.

Curiosity.

Surely he had come from somewhere? He must have had some siblings. Being alone was so new to him when he…

Sweeney swallowed. If he wasn't used to being alone at first, then he must have grown up with a brother or sister. Perhaps both.

Mrs. Lovett would know. If she treated Benjamin with half as much attention she gave him there was no way she couldn't know. But he wouldn't ask her. Not because he didn't want to trouble the woman. Because he didn't want to sink to that level. Curiosity. It was so… _human_.

He snorted and turned away from the happy families that seemed to be accumulating just to mock him on that day. He perched on his barber's chair, eyes on the floor, keeping his feet well away from the pedals on either side of the chair.

He could ask.

But did he want to know?

What if he found out? What then? They were Benjamin's family- not his. He couldn't very well go and visit them.

What if Benjamin didn't have a family? Perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to cling to the hope he might always have somewhere to turn if anything happened. If he ever became so desperate. Not that he was really a family man anymore. But perhaps he wanted to be.

Sweeney made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat, but his face betrayed nothing other than a little annoyance as he frowned slightly.

So many riddles for so few answers.

Sweeney stood and began to pace back and forth like a caged animal. He felt like a caged animal, but where could he go? To see Mrs. Lovett?

His swift movements showing his agitation and exasperation, he moved to the door and yanked it open, only to see Mrs. Lovett hurrying towards him with a tray in her hand. He stepped onto the landing area and into her path. She almost collided with him before she looked up.

"Oh, hello love." she said cheerily, steadying the contents of the tray. Sweeney stared at its contents. A pie (made from the animal meat Mrs. Lovett kept for herself, Sweeney and the boy), a glass of something that looked promisingly like gin, the newspaper he brought her at noon every day and finally, a small plate of some kind of biscuits.

"Mrs. Lovett." he greeted, plucking the glass from the tray and downing it with a grimace.

"Are you alright Mr. T?" she asked, peering at him. He realised his face was no longer straight and he bore a perplexed expression. He considered asking his question and clearing up his confusion, but then decided against it.

"Of course." he muttered, before turning to go back into his shop. The woman followed him, as usual.

Silently, he resumed his post at the window. He felt Mrs. Lovett's gaze on his back. He wanted to scream at her to go away. He wanted to press his razor against her neck and feel her terror in front of him. He wanted to drive her away from him.

He wanted her to give up on Benjamin Barker.

Sweeney considered for a moment. He wanted to know about his family. But he wouldn't ask outright. He would bring up her sister. Yes, she would think he was reverting back to Benjamin, but he had to know. He didn't want to hurt her more than he already did, but he had to know.

Didn't he?

Before he could question himself any further, Sweeney turned around and looked at Mrs. Lovett.

"How's your sister?" he asked with a false smile, hating himself for the new life those words seemed to give her.

Mrs. Lovett bounded around her shop that afternoon, with an air that customers could only describe as… hopeful.

_False hope,_ Sweeney thought grimly as he watched Mrs. Lovett from the small landing that overlooked the busy courtyard of the pie shop.

* * *

_Please, please review? :). And BTW, does anyone else think Sweeney just needs a nice big hug? Sometimes he kind of reminds me of a lonely, confused young child- someone who just needs a bit of guidance. And then he gets all angry and maniacal and it's like he's throwing a murderer's equivalent of a temper tantrum :). And then the silence/deep thinking after is like the aftershock- you know where a child would just randomly burst into tears? So I think he just needs a big hug to comfort him :)._

_Okay, wierd Sweeney analysis/analogy over xD. But tell me what YOU think might make Sweeney feel better (besides Lucy) and while you're at it, let me know what you think of my writing! Come on, I don't bite. LOL, JK... I don't bite OFTEN :). __And while you're at reviewing, would someone please tell me what the area I've been refering to as a 'landing' is? Is it a landing? A balcony? Does anyone know?_

_Oooh... this time I put the long author's note at the end D:. So close too. Goddammit. Sorry :D:D *grins hopefully*. It's because it's about six in the morning and I've yet to go to bed. That always makes me giddy. Overtired, I believe it's called. But I don't expect you lot to really care. So I'll shut up now. Sorry :)._


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